Hidden Scars
by lifeinpoetry
Summary: Andie has a problem with self-injury. Set in Season 2.
1. Hidden Scars

Hidden Scars

Hidden Scars  


**Note:** Based on "The Dance" episode or whatever it's called. A change of events from what really happened.

**Personal Note:** This story deals with a serious issue, so be warned that there is material here that may be offensive to some people. And for others, be warned that this is TRIGGERING If you wish to find more information on self-injury this is a webpage you should go to. [Self-Injury: A Struggle][1].

**Another Note:** I wrote this a while back, before self-injury was a popular topic to write about. The title has nothing to do with the title of that horrible USA Network movie, I rather despise the term "Secret Cutting." Written when I was young and naive. 

***

    Andie slowly walked down the school hallway, her blues eyes anxiously searching for the tall figure of Pacey. She found him, dancing in the arms of Kristy Livingstone, his head buried in the blond cheerleaders hair. Shock froze her, a feeling of numbness began to creep over her body. She should have known that this would happen. Andie knew she was unworthy, unlovable. But, for once, she had allowed herself to hope that a boy would ever like her. Nervously, she began to claw at her wrists, scratching them with long fingernails. Then, she fled, blond hair flying out from behind her.

    Perhaps sensing he was being watched, Pacey looked up. His eyes grew wide as he saw the retreating figure of Andie that was running down the hallway. Guilt swept over him and he tore himself out of Kristy's arms. But Andie saw none of this.

***

    Andie's face was anxious as she quietly slipped her key in the lock on the front door. Letting herself in she listened for any sounds. She wanted to make sure her mother was asleep. She went upstairs to her bedroom and instantly headed for the dresser. Andie opened the bottom drawer and dug underneath the neatly folded clothes.

    Trembling hands closed over the small metal box that lay hidden underneath her clothes, unoticeable unless you knew where to look for it. Andie pulled it free and headed for her bed. She reached underneath her pillows and pulled out a black towel that she kept there for times like these. She spread the towel next to her and opened the box. Inside were her razor blades, lined neatly in a row.

    She grabbed one, cutting herself as the blade slipped between fingers that trembled. Trembled, not with fear, but with anticipation and need. She held the razor over her arm, pressing it firmly against the soft flesh. Slowly, Andie drew the blade across her arm, feeling the sharp, stinging pain. She watched as the cut quickly began to fill up with crimson blood. Blood that welled up and began to drip down. These were the only tears she could shed, red and full of pain. She slashed with the razor blade again, feeling it's sharp edge buried in her flesh, helping her express the pain she felt deep inside.

    Andie lost track of the time, everything blurring together. She only stopped when she heard the knocking at the front door. Hurriedly she rubbed the sticky blood off the razor as best she could. Still, dried blood clung to the blade; it's color turned dingy brown. She would have to come back and clean it later. Andie put the razor back in the box and rushed to the dresser. She buried the metal box underneath the clothes once more, concealing it.

    The knock at the door came again, louder and more insistent. She heard Pacey's muffled voice call, "Andie!" What was Pacey doing here? Hadn't he already hurt her enough, she couldn't take much more stress and emotional pain.

    Fear, at being caught, rushed through her. She grabbed the towel and wrapped it around her arm, which was red and raw and bleeding. Her eye was caught by the bright drops of blood on the floor. She hurried over and wiped them up. Andie stood up and looked around. Everything looked normal and neat. The knocking downstairs continued, she could hear her mother going to answer it.

    Andie went to her closet and quickly changed into a pair of black jeans and a big, black baggy sweater. She didn't have a chance of tending her wounds, unless she wanted to risk discovery. Cutting was her secret, the only thing that could keep her from killing herself. It kept her sane, for now at least.

    Andie could hear Pacey and her mother talking quietly downstairs. Then she hear him rushing upstairs to her room. She waited for him...she would get him out of her life forever.

    The door to her room burst open as Pacey ran in. "Andie!" he exclaimed, "You got it all wrong. I'm sorry."

    Andie pasted a fake smile on her face, and they talked.

***

    Later on that night Andie lay in her bed, eyes wide open, staring at the ceiling. She and Pacey were together now, officially. For the first time in years she felt the warm feeling of happiness. She felt so light, but a heavy weight was still chained to her. She hadn't told Pacey about the cutting. It was just one of many of her secrets. But maybe he would be the one to get her out of this darkness.

_**To be continued...**_

E-mail [Gabrielle][2]

   [1]: http://www.self-injury.net
   [2]: mailto:comfortably_numb311@yahoo.com



	2. Razors

Razors

Razors 

**Note:** If you need to find out more information about self-injury this is a website you might like to go to. It's called [Self-Injury: A Struggle][1].

**Personal Note:** This story deals with a serious issue, so be warned that there is material here that may be offensive to some people. And for others, be warned that this is TRIGGERING.

***

    Andie studied her nails, now clipped brutally short. It was funny how something as common as fingernails could be so destructive. She knew she could never keep them long, at least not now. They were too tempting in a way most people would never imagine them to be: a pinch, digging them into her arm, scratching deep, angry furrows into her skin...

    She sighed, disgusted with herself. She could never seem to stop thinking about how she could hurt herself; it was always a thought in the back of her mind. A thought that would take over if a particularly stressful situation came up and she could feel anxiety creeping up on her or if she was trapped in the black hole of depression. Andie chided herself. She had to stop thinking about this!

    The shrill ring of the telephone invaded her thoughts, causing her to jump slightly. She picked it up, holding it to her ear, and tentatively asked, "Hello?"

    "Andie! It's Pacey," he said. Then, without waiting for her to say anything he asked, "Would you like to go to the movies? Dawson asked if we wanted to go with him and Joey. I told him I'd tell him once I asked you."

    The movies? Anything to drag her away from her disturbing thoughts. "Sure. When is it? I'm not doing much." Andie kept her voice light, she didn't want Pacey to hear how anxious she was.

    "Well, uh, it's today at around six. I could come and pick you up at five thirty. How does that sound?" he sounded calm and relaxed.

    "That's fine. Well, Pacey, I have to go get ready. See you later. Bye!" she forced herself to sound happy.

    "Bye, Andie." He hung up, leaving the sound of the dial tone in her ear.

    Andie stood there for a minute, staring blankly into space. Finally, there was something to do, something to keep her busy so she didn't have to think so much. Pacey seemed to think it was insane for her to try to get all those medals, all those perfect grades; he didn't understand that it was a way of surviving.

***

    Andie uncomfortably sat in a seat in the back of the movie theater. Every so often her eyes would flick to the exit door. Pacey sat next to her, oblivious to her anxiety. Of course, this was because of the darkness of the theater and the deafening sound. She looked up at the screen, wondering why had to watch 'Stigmata' of all movies. Andie's anxiety crested as she watched the "possessed" woman on the screen take a knife to her arm, making deep slashes. She had to get out of here.

    Getting up and taking her purse with her, Andie stumbled past Dawson and Joey towards the exit. She mumbled something to Pacey about having to go to the bathroom. Then, on unsteady legs she walked out of the theater, heading towards the restroom. Once inside, she stepped into the last stall, locking the door behind her.

    Tears came, stinging her eyes. Andie furiously blinked them away. She shouldn't cry, if she had ever learned anything from her father it was that: she shouldn't cry. As a child her father had always gotten furious at her if she had cried, yelling at her that she was trying to manipulate him. Andie stared at the wall with dead eyes, she knew what she wanted...had to do. Otherwise it would get worse, she knew from experience.

    She had an emergency razor, set aside for times like these when she couldn't get to the ones at home. Against her will, she could feel the anticipation. Andie reached into her purse and dug beneath all her cosmetics and lotion. Her fingers touched the plastic bag at the bottom, then she pulled it out. It was a simple makeup bag, black, shiny. The zipper rasped as she opened it and took out the silver razor blade.

    Andie stared at it, her eyes inspecting its metal edges. She felt the sudden urge to put it away, but she banished the thought. This was the _only_ thing that could help her, the only thing that could make her feel better, the only thing that made her able to function. Her hand moved of its own volition.

    Three gashes appeared on her upper arm, beads of blood already appearing. Andie took comfort from this sight, she could feel the anxiety going down. Already, the overwhelming feelings were beginning to recede. She inspected her upper arm, searching for a piece of skin that was free of scars. When she did, she took the razor to her arm again. The blood ran down her arm in a red stream, warm on her cold skin. It dripped down onto the white tile of the bathroom floor. Andie watched it for a moment then looked back at her arm.

    Suddenly the door to the bathroom banged open with a thud. She could hear the sounds of someone's shoes scraping the floor as they walked in. Andie froze, listening.

    "Andie, are you in here?" Joey asked in a concerned tone of voice. "Pacey was worried about you when you didn't come back."

    Andie felt the razor blade slip out of her hands, falling to the floor with a small metallic clink. With horrified eyes Andie stared down at it, furtively wondering if Joey could see it. She felt a huge wave of relief when she saw that it was hidden from Joey's view by her feet.

    Andie called out, "Joey, I'm here. I'm sorry that you guys got worried about me. I didn't like the movie much so I didn't want to go back." A lame excuse, but nobody had ever questioned past excuses she had made up.

    "Ok, Andie. I'll tell Pacey you're all right," Joey paused, "I understand about the movie. It was so weird when that possessed lady cut herself. I mean, what sort of person would do that?"

    "Yeah," Andie said in a low voice, not meaning it.

    "Well, see you later Andie," Joey said. Andie heard her retreating footsteps, then a bang as the door opened then shut again.

    "Weird," Andie mumbled to herself. Strangely, she felt hurt by Joey's comments even if they had not been directed at her. She wondered how Joey would react if she told the brunette that she hurt herself, cut herself with razors. Andie could almost see the look of disgust on Joey's face, and could see her turning away. Andie shuddered, this only confirmed her belief that no one ever could ever understand.

    She bent down and picked up the razor blade, being careful to not cut her fingers. Then she flung it into the toilet and flushed it away. Andie then cleaned herself up. Wiping and washing the blood away. She was thoroughly engrossed in this cleaning ritual.

    Afterwards, Andie looked at herself in the mirror. She had brushed her blond hair, her long-sleeved shirt covered her new wounds. She had wrapped gauze she kept in her purse, not something that was typical of most teenage girls, around her arm. Andie smiled bravely at her reflection, and walked out the door.

_**

To be continued...

**_

E-mail [Gabrielle][2]

   [1]: http://www.self-injury.net
   [2]: mailto:comfortably_numb311@yahoo.com



	3. Daddy?

Daddy?

Daddy? 

**Note:** If you need to find out more information about self-injury you might like to go to this site. It's called [Self-Injury: A Struggle][1].

**Personal Note:** This story deals with a serious issue, so be warned that there is material here that may be offensive to some people. And for others, be warned that this is **very** TRIGGERING.

***

    Andie felt Pacey's mouth, soft on hers, gently kissing her. She tentatively began kissing him back, her in experience making her hesitant. They had kissed before, their efforts usually resulting in Andie freezing up. None of the forceful, passionate kisses one often sees on television, Pacey had been patient with her. His lips slowly grew more forceful on hers, pressing hard. Andie wanted to tell him to stop, she wasn't ready for this, but the side of her that struggled to please others warned her that he would get tired of her inability to get intimate and dump her. Andie felt the beginnings of a scream building within her as Pacey's lips continued to kiss her forcibly.

    _She was four years old, terrified. A strong hand was clapped over her face. She couldn't see._

    Pacey was still kissing her, not noticing.

    _Her mouth was being forced open. She could hear heavy panting. Something hot and hard was shoved into her mouth._

    Pacey continued to kiss her.

    _"Suck the lollypop, honey. Suck the lollypop." She obliged, hating this thing. Harsh panting._

    Pacey continued to kiss her.

    _"Yes. God, yes. That's very good, sweetie." A sharp cry came from him. The nasty stuff was in her mouth, the thing grew soft. It was gone._

    Pacey continued to kiss her.

    _"Daddy?"_

    A scream full of immense shame and grief escaped from her mouth, growing louder and louder. Her arms blindly shoving Pacey back. She felt ugly and dirty, cheap. Her hands came up to her face, her fingernails dug furrows, angry and red, into her cheeks. She needed her razors, she wanted to die.

    Strong arms, Pacey's arms, enfolded her. Far away, a voice asks her what is wrong. Everything is far away. Everything is that hot summer afternoon with daddy.

    Pain, she needed pain to make it all go away. To make her believe she and daddy were only playing. She struggles out of Pacey's arms. The need to cut, to burn, to slam, to hit, is strong.

    The bathroom, the door is locked behind her. She see's her face in the mirror, red scratches run down her cheeks. She wants to destroy that face, destroy that mouth, that dirty, diseased mouth.

    She punches her face, her head rocking back. Again. And again. And again. Her skin feels numb, she feels numb. Nothing happened with daddy, she just has an overactive imagination. That afternoon was a lie, it never happened.

    Her hand drops to her side, she is calm.

    Andie feels the fog lift from her brain. She hears Pacey pounding on the door, calling her name. The skin on her face is sore and red. Andie tries to tidy up her appearance. She is scared that Pacey will think she is crazy.

    "I'm all right," she calls out.

***

    "Andie, what happened? You totally freaked," Pacey looks at her with concerned eyes.

    Her eyes shift down, "Nothing happened." She forces a happy tone into her voice, "I'm perfectly ok."

    "Don't tell me nothing happened, McPhee. That was totally crazy!"

    Her voice was sharp, "Don't call me crazy, Pacey. Ever."

    "I'm just concerned. I care about you, Andie. I want to take away all those demons that are haunting you," his voice was soft.

    "What demons?" she feigns ignorance, but her eyes flash a warning at him.

    "Do you thing I'm blind? I see you look lost and scared for no reason. I see that haunted look in your eyes," his hand reaches up and softly touches her face.

    "Why do you stay with me?" Nobody loves her, Pacey can't love her.

    "Andie, I love you. From the first time I saw you, I knew you were the one for me. I want to help you. Inside, you're so beautiful. You just can't see it. I know there's something wrong, but it doesn't make me want to run. It makes me want to wrap you into my arms and hold you until I know that you're ok again. Tell me, what's wrong?" His eyes look deeply into hers, trying to show how much he cares for her.

    "I-I can't talk about it right now. I'm sorry, I just _can't_." Her eyes are full of unshed tears. He cares for her, he wants to help her.

***

    Andie opens her eyes, she is alone. Pacey had insisted that he stay with her that night. Not to make out, but to make sure she'll be ok. But, apparently he had left. She felt a sense of loss, maybe he hadn't meant what he had said earlier.

    She gropes under the bed for the black towel. She gets the box with her razors. Carefully, she lays them out in a row. They gleam in the moonlight. She rolls up her sleeve, she's wearing a long-sleeved shirt, of course. Then she takes the first razor and presses it against her forearm. Cold metal against warm skin. She presses deep, then drags it across her arm. A neat red line is made. Another slash with her hand and another red line appears. Ruby droplets of blood push up, they trickle down her arm. She watches the blood. It looks different in the moonlight.

    Andie hears something move downstairs. Her head snaps up, the razor drops from her hand. She frantically throws her razors back into the box, hearing them clink as they fall. She scrubs at her arm with a towel, then shoves it and the box under her bed. She pulls her sleeve down.

    There are steps on the stairs, unfamiliar ones. They head towards her room, the door opens.

    "Hey McPhee,. You're awake. I just went down to get a midnight snack. I hope you don't mind," Pacey smiles ruefully at her.

    "Of course I don't mind," she forces a smile.

_**To be continued...**_

E-mail [Gabrielle][2]

   [1]: http://www.self-injury.net
   [2]: mailto:comfortably_numb311@yahoo.com



End file.
